Penelope
by Graveygraves
Summary: Tag to the episode Penelope. One shot. Views and reviews welcome. all characters relevant to the episode. Penelope's life is hanging in the balence. What impact does that have on her colleagues? A collection of little snapsnots of their thoughts as they wait to see if Penelope pulls through.


**Penelope**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**So I was watching reruns the other day and this one came up and it kind of reminded me of a one-shot idea I had once had. Here it is.**

**. . .**

**Prompt**

**Hotch:** I don't care about protocol. I don't care if we're working this officially or not. We don't touch any new cases until we found out who did this.

. . .

The persistent beep of the machines seemed to fade as the images began flooding through her memory. Some made her want to laugh while other made her want to cry. Either way Penelope was painfully aware that her body was not willing to respond to any of the images she saw so vividly. Trying to focus on all the good one and ignore the worst she clung on hoping that the darkness that was creeping in on the edges wasn't the end of the show . . . it couldn't be . . . they wouldn't let it be. . . her superheroes would rescue her . . . wouldn't they?

. . .

Hotch was incapable of staying in the sterile waiting room for long. He knew his place was with his team but to be honest he wasn't a 'hug it out' kind of guy. Hotch needed action and standing waiting for a doctor to tell them how Penelope was doing was wasting precious time. If they were to get a result then they needed to be out working the case as soon as possible. Yet that was the point at which he became torn. Hotch had no doubts that best chance Penelope had of justice were sitting or pacing the waiting room. It was his role to motivate them to get back out there, but equally he knew the importance of them being there for their friend the minute she woke from this nightmare.

And that was why he was stood outside in the cold night air, deciding what his next move was.

. . .

Sat, waiting, JJ felt like her whole world had stopped spinning. Closing her eyes briefly she could vividly remember the first day she met Penelope Garcia, to be honest who couldn't? That was what she loved about Penelope she was an individual, she stood out and didn't care who knew it. There had been an instant bond between them – something had just clicked from the moment Penelope had dropped the first bundle of files on JJ's desk. They may be chalk and cheese in many respects but they fitted together like and hand and glove.

Wringing her hands once more JJ looked up, praying that the door would open and they would be told that Pen was safe. That was all that mattered right now. Right now she needed to see Pen, to hold her. To hear her magic words of wisdom and girly giggle, right now that would be priceless. JJ needed to know that they would still have their nights out when they had no interest in the men but plenty of interest in fun. She needed to know that when she wanted a break from the files she could grab a coffee and head to the lair for some light relief. JJ began to realise how much of her life centred on Pen. Best of friends was an understatement.

She needed to know that she still had her partner in crime.

. . .

Spencer knew that the rituals that he was going through were mindless and silly. They did nothing to help Penelope but everything to calm him. Each pace he took, and counted, or twiddle of his thumbs distracted him from what was happening right here right now.

It was moments like this that he wished he had not memorised complete medical publications of any sort. It didn't help to know the survival statistics for victims of gunshot wounds. He regretted having a clear, admitted pictorial diagram, of the procedure that Penelope was going through right now.

Standing Spencer took to the floor once more, having had enough of sitting for a whole two minutes this time! Each step he mentally fought with the images that tormented him. That was until he focused once more on Morgan.

Being unable to find had been awful but watching the man torture himself was worse. He should say something, offer support but how? What did any of them say at a moment like this? They were all silent, actions and gestures replacing words.

Feeling slightly uncomfortable Spence rested his hand on Morgan's shoulder, briefly, before resuming pacing. Hopefully it was enough to show the empathy he felt.

Spencer may never understand Penelope Garcia, but he was in awe of her all the same.

. . .

Dave was not a man to quantify his feelings – why waste time? Don't get him wrong he was an emotive man, just not one that felt he had to explain or justify being ruled by how he felt. But right now anger bubbled below the surface, threatening to spill out any second.

He would be the first to admit that he didn't know the super tech kitten that well, but he knew enough to know what a kind hearted person she was. She was not capable of hurting a fly, and that he meant literally. How anyone could attack and try to kill her was beyond him, but he sure knew what he would like to do with them when he found them . . . and he would find them.

. . .

Emily watched the others, painfully aware of their worry, yet still she masked her own. She couldn't just let it all out as they did. It wasn't how she had been brought up, but that didn't mean she didn't feel it.

She did feel it, deeply. Penelope had been a breath of fresh air in her life. She was a free spirit. Everything Emily admired but had failed to fully achieve was epitomised in Penelope Garcia. She lived life to the full having fun every step of the way. Penelope had taught Emily to lighten up, that it was ok to relax. Penelope showed her that there was more to life than proving to others what she was capable of. Penelope was interested in others views of her – but she didn't care if they liked her or not. She was who she was.

And right now Emily hoped that she would be their shining light once more – leading them through the darkness.

. . .

Derek's mind raced, his thoughts jumbled yet vividly clear. He couldn't balance the concept that when he had sat praying Penelope had been laying in a pool of her own blood. He desperately tried to make a link between the events – searching for some sanity in the insane world that surrounded him.

As others paced around him, Derek sat with his hands in his head, despair etched upon his face. There had to be something he could do, a clue in all that had happened that could solve all of this. Grasping at every hint or snippet and trying to match it to another piece, creating the most mismatched jigsaw puzzle in his head.

Racking his brain, Derek tried to relive every moment they had shared in the hope that keeping the memories alive would keep Penelope alive.

Then maybe, just maybe, he could tell his Baby Girl what he had been meaning to tell her for years.

. . .

The doors opened and everyone stood, gathering around the stranger as he entered the room. Bated breath as they waited for what seemed like forever to hear how she was doing.

. . .

"I believe that the greatest truths of the universe don't lie outside, in the study of the stars and the planets. They lie deep within us, in the magnificence of our heart, mind, and soul. Until we understand what is within, we can't understand what is without."  
**Anita Moorjani****, **_**Dying to Be Me: My Journey from Cancer, to Near Death, to True Healing**_


End file.
